Ruin
by Yoseong
Summary: A reimagination of the hunting field Dead Man's Hill in Feita. Written on a whim for a school assignment. Was challenged to write a story with minimal dialogue. You like? Show your appreciation with a review.


Dead Man's Hill

Everything was so gray and worn down. The damp, mossy cobblestones cut a rough path through the dark green shrubs and ferns. The path was overgrown, with plant shoots sprouting between the cracks in the path of faded stones. Far off, sickly fields of grass dotted with tall, needle-like pine trees and broken, crumbling ruins of damp wood and cracked stone littered the landscape. Mist clung to the ground like a blanket, stirring with the wind.

The beaten path's trek, surrounded by ruins and natural ambience, came to a close several metres before a large, cast-iron gate. The thick bars, albeit rusted heavily, were incredibly tough. The gate was surrounded by imposing, moss-covered stone walls. Atop the walls stood parapets. The walls themselves were several metres high, with no hope of climbing.

Through the iron gate, the path reappeared, running past a broken down chapel, the glass windows shattered and the roof collapsed, before forking into two separate paths. The first followed a straight path, running to the right of a towering structure of rock and iron. Gigantic pillars every several metres, with arches of stone connecting the pillars together; huge iron chains hanging from high above seemingly supporting stone platforms that jutted out from the rock face. Set within the massive pillars were large cauldrons, modified to act as torches. In the centre of the large structure was yet another gate, surrounded by a magnificent arch.

Rather than cobblestone, the arch surrounding the gate, and the pillars supporting the gate, were made of much more pristine, white marble. Chiseled into the marble were designs and inscriptions in an ancient language. The scripture, however, was much too faded to read. Weather had beaten down the marble as equally as it had beaten the cobblestone, but the two were still discernible.

Farther down, as the structure ended, was another chapel; equally as broken. The path disappeared again, several metres from another gate, identical to the first.

The second path veered sharply right and entered a courtyard, surrounded by foliage. The ground was littered with human artefacts. Books, fragments of stone, even the occasional twisted bit of metal or rotted wood.

Statues, heavily worn and nearly broken beyond recognition, depicted grand angels, mighty Valkyries, and benevolent gods. The centrepiece of the courtyard was a colossal, slightly raised circular fountain, still filled with water. The mechanism for circulating the water stood erect in the centre, seemingly untouched in this place of ruin.

The water was tinged a murky purple, fumes coming off the surface. Floating within the fountain were pieces of wood, rope, even bones. A leaf flitted down from a nearby tree, landing in the water and instantly sizzling into nothingness.

Rounding the pool, the path turned back, exiting the courtyard and rejoining with the other path before it ended. Inside the second chapel, in a place where nothing dared to disturb the tranquility of silence, there came the creaking of wood.

Footsteps echoed throughout the gigantic ruin.

 _Creak. Creak. Creak._

The main door to the chapel slowly slid open, and a young man stepped out. His foot landed on the damp cobblestone softly. He stepped down the steps of the chapel, making his way towards the path. He wore a dark grey shirt with a pair of tight black pants. Clipped to his pants at the knee were pads of metal connected to loose pieces of white fabric that wrapped around his lower leg. Around his waist was a loose belt, a container of some kind fastened to it. He wore a light blue jacket made of cotton with a hood and two large pockets. Lines ran vertically over the jacket. On the sleeves, where the deltoid muscle would be, were designs similar to runes.

The young man's skin was relatively pale, and he had long, messy black hair. His hair was dyed with streaks of ice blue, with one particular strand of blue hair on the back of his head being much longer than the others. This strand was simply allowed to fall down to his back, somewhat like a ponytail.

The sound of his armored shoe hitting the cobblestone echoed throughout the enclosure.

 _Clack..._

He froze, nerves tensed.

Nothing moved.

The mist swirled around his foot as a cold wind whipped through the ruin. He zipped up his jacket, shivering slightly. Holding out his right hand, he concentrated energy into it. The black glove that he wore on the hand glowed faintly, and an orange-red circle materialized, a rune reminiscent of the number 3 etched into it. The rune gave off an orange light, accompanied by a moderate amount of heat. Warming his chilled limbs slightly, the man breathed out and extinguished the rune by closing his fist.

He stepped fully onto the cobblestone path, drawing his longsword from the scabbard on his back. The blade had been finely crafted, the silvery blade glinting in the dusk. Engraved in the base of the blade was yet another rune. The hilt was made of a lustrous blue metal. The grip on the sword was comprised of the finest leather, wrapped around the metal base delicately, yet precisely. With the rune engraved within the blade, every swing left behind a very faint trail of blue light. The blade itself was exceedingly cold, able to freeze water instantaneously.

Sword at the ready, the young man treaded towards the central gate.

 _Click. Clack._

The sound of his shoes hitting the stone jarred the atmosphere. It echoed through the damp ruin, undisturbed, unaltered.

The mist swirled around his feet. His blade became coated in a thin layer of ice.

 _Click. Clack._

The man's eyes scanned the vicinity, searching for anything that moved. His hand went to the container fastened to his belt, from which he pulled out a large gold key.

In the courtyard, hidden beneath the foliage, lay many wooden coffins. Worn, but bolted shut. All except one.

The reptilian demon emerged from the coffin, stumbling forward. Mottled, grey skin and piercing, yellow eyes. A gigantic pair of jaws, rows of teeth lining its maw. Its head was much too big for its body, so it stumbled along, unbalanced. Following the path out of the courtyard, it silently approached the young man from the behind.

Unaware of his peril, the man stepped towards the central gate and proceeded to insert the key into the large lock in the centre of the gate. The demon growled lowly. The man, startled at the sudden break from silence, jumped back from the sound and whirled to face the demon.

His hand was raised to the sky, as he created a gigantic, blue rune in the air. From it, a massive blade of blue energy emerged, slicing through the air and piercing the demon. The blade's point was impaled deep into the rock path. The blade and rune vanished, and the demon collapsed, dissolving into shadow.

Silence returned once more to the ruin.

 _Ka-chunk._

The key turned within the lock mechanism on the gate. He placed his right hand on the gate, as he always used his left to hold his sword. The gate creaked open, hinges protesting loudly.

 _Click. Clack._

The young man stepped through the gate when it was just wide enough to squeeze through. He stepped into the newly opened space, discovering that it was simply a field littered with more ruined buildings. He disregarded all the smaller buildings, heading straight across the field for the large spire that was visible from his location.

The large building could certainly be considered a manor. After all, it had the right look for one. The building looked to be two floors, built more outwards than upwards. There were a total of three towers, each equipped with parapets on the roof.

The sound of his shoes hitting wet grass was not nearly as loud as before, effectively returning silence to the ruin. As he approached the manor, a very faint shadow moved by the window. He failed to notice this, continuing his trek.

The grand doorway was comprised of a very light-coloured wood, with elaborate designs carved onto it. The man sheathed his sword and placed both of his hands on the door, Grunting with the effort required to push the door open.

For a moment, it didn't budge, but the door soon gave way.

 _Creaaaak..._

Once the door gave way, it eagerly swung on its hinges, hitting the interior wall with a thud. The man once again created a bright orange rune, bathing the dark corridor in orange light. The floors were made of polished granite. The vast hallway split off relatively quickly, forming a t-intersection.

Littered on the floor were rocks, wood, and weapons.

 _Click... Clack._

The sound echoed through the entire hall, magnifying with each repetition. The man had walked towards the wall, spotting a spear that was impaled in the wall.

 _Click. Clack... Thump._

He had fallen on his back, the spear in his hand. The rune went out when he pressed his hand against the floor. Releasing the spear with a clatter, he quickly stood up.

 _Rustle... Clack. Shhing._

He drew his sword, steeling his nerves. He created another rune, then jumped back in terror. There was a demon, same as before, right in front of him. It stared at him, but nothing else.

The man readied his sword, holding the blade horizontal in front of him. The rune in the blade glowed, first creating an ice blue cloud that surrounded the blade, then a thin veil of white energy that glazed over the surface. The gleaming edge shone in the dim light.

All was silent for a moment more, then the demon charged with gaping jaws.

 _Clang._

The man had stopped the charge with his sword. The blade shone between the vicious jaws of the demon, preventing it from moving further. Moving his hand towards the demon's weak spot, the chest, the man created a rune in midair and detonated it, releasing a blast of energy that catapulted the demon back.

The demon sailed through the air and slammed into the ground with a thud, rolling several times until its back hit a large piece of rubble. The man lowered himself, then took of towards the demon.

 _Patpatpatpatpatpatpat..._

The man ran swiftly, but silently. Charging at the demon, who lay dazed, he jumped up into the air, holding his sword high above.

 _Clank._

His blade slammed into the ground as the demon disappeared; melted into shadow. He was able to see down both branches of the t-intersection as he stood up. More demons, except they were armed. Some with crude shields, some with spears. Several toted bows, no doubt salvaged from the rubble.

They came from both hallways, an armada that quite possibly had been sent to destroy the young man. As they slowly stalked towards him, he stood up, the aura on his sword changing from ice blue to a deathly green, spotted with dark specks.

 _Clack. Clack._

He walked slowly left, holding his sword straight forward, pointing towards the demons coming from that hallway. One stepped forward, brandishing a decorated spear. It pointed it at the man.

 _Clack._

He stopped. Dead silence once again filled the ruin, the mass of demons watching as the young man faced off against his first real opponent. The two both dashed forward, weapons at the ready. The man had aimed for the shaft of the demon's spear; the demon had aimed straight for the man's head.

 _Clatter._

The broken spear fell to the ground, the man's attack having reached his opponent first. The mass of demons shuffled uneasily as their "leader" dissolved into shadow. Unanimously, they charged.

The young man did not even have to move from his standing position. Summoning a whirlwind of energy, He created a storm of blue energy blades that surrounded him, shredding any and all of the demons that got too close to him.

He smirked as the few survivors turned tail and ran, their platoon nearly annihilated.

 _Bang._

The man turned around at the sound, seeing the second platoon of demons. They had simultaneously slammed their weapons against the ground, creating a tremendous sound. The ones with shields stood in front, crouching and locking their shields. Spears bristled above the shields. The formation began to march forward as arrows started arcing over it, trying to find a mark in the young man.

Dodging the arrows without much difficulty, the man reached into the container on his belt and pulled out a bottle filled with a curious, blue liquid. Uncorking the bottle, he took a deep breath and downed it all in one gulp.

The man's glove reacted to the sudden boost of energy, lighting up and emitting a shallow whistling sound. He reached into the container and extracted a shard of luminescent crystal, holding it in his right hand, which he raised into the air. He jabbed his sword into the ground.

His hand glowed brightly, and, in the space above his head, a large, glowing red rune appeared. The formation of demons halted as the ground began to shake, rubble slowly rising into the air. The rune turned into a dark void of energy, sucking the rubble into it. The shield demons were the first to lose their footing and fell forward, rising in the air towards the rune. Next came the makeshift spears, ripped out of the grip of the second line of demons. Some lunged for their weapons and were dragged as well.

The swirling ball of energy grew larger, and the last of the demons fell into its grasp. Opening his hand, the man released the glowing white shard of crystal, which flew upwards, piercing the ball of energy and detonating it. The shockwave that resulted shook the building in its entirety. Rubble dislodged from the sudden jolt rained down around the man, but he was unharmed. At the last moment, he had shielded himself with a rune.

Pulling his sword from the floor, he stepped through the rubble and continued on his way, turning around and walking to the end of the corridor. A dark stairway awaited him. Creating a rune for light, he ascended slowly.

The second floor of the manor was comprised of a single, straight hallway, doors on both sides. There were 16 different rooms, each of which no doubt contained something of significance. However, the man had come for a particular one.

Reaching under his shirt, he pulled out a silver necklace chain. A large, brass key with the number 13 engraved in it hung from the chain. Slowly, the man made his way down the hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet.

 _Creak... Creak..._

He passed the first pair of doors. With a simple plaque depicting the number one, door one was absurdly plain. Directly across from door one was door two. Two was, as well, quite plain. However, hanging from the doorknob was a little sign that read, "do not disturb". The letters were rounded and large, somewhat like a child's. Out of impulse, the man tried the doorknob. It was locked, as expected.

Moving down the hall towards the next pair of doors, the man was struck by a wave of nausea. He held his hand over his mouth, fighting down a retch, and looked over his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sign on door two moving slightly. He dismissed this and moved on, skipping past the next several pairs of doors.

 _Creak, creak, creak, creak, creak..._

Skipping past the next six pairs of doors, he arrived at door thirteen. He stopped in front of it and pulled his necklace off, clutching the key.

If the previous doors were reflections of the people who lived in the rooms, door thirteen's resident must have been quite a disturbing person. The door's plaque was chipped and rusted. The door itself was not in good condition, and much of the door was covered in blood splatter.

The man stood in front of the door, breathing deeply. He steeled himself, then tried the doorknob.

 _Click._

The door swung open with ease, revealing a dark room. The door swung into a small desk with a dull thud. Dust filled the air of the room for a moment, then resettled. The man increased the power of the rune that was providing him with light, making it shine brighter. He looked around the room. The desk that the door had swung into was to the immediate left of a large bookshelf, crammed with books. On the other side of the room was a small bed. He stepped forward, then reeled back. He had nearly stepped on a large chef's knife, sitting in a pool of dried blood.

Steeling himself once again, he walked around the bloodstain and into the room. He noticed a draped window, which he pulled open. Looking out the window, he could see the entirety of the ruin. The man turned around and saw the corpse handing from the ceiling, in the corner of the room not visible from the doorway.

He did not panic. Stepping back towards the doorway while keeping as much distance from the corpse as possible, he noted that the corpse, easily identifiable as a young girl, had been hanged. The rope noose around her neck was still taut.

He quickly left the room and pulled the door closed, another wave of nausea swimming over him as he leaned against the wall. He stared at the key clenched in his hand. The brass gleamed in the dim light. Staring at the opposite door, presumably door fourteen, the man noticed something peculiar.

On the plaque that was placed on door fourteen, the number fourteen was scratched out. The man pushed himself unsteadily from the wall and shuffled towards door fourteen, bringing his hand up so he could see better. Beside the scratched out fourteen was a rune. Specifically, the one that he used. The one that looked like the number three.

Spinning the key in his hand, the man inserted it into the keyhole on the doorknob, turning it.

 _Ka-chunk._

He pulled the key out and tried the door. The door swung open with a creak, revealing a room void of furniture. In the centre of the room sat a wooden chest. He stepped forward briskly, kneeling in front of the chest and placing his hands on the lid. The light rune floated out of his hand before it could be destroyed, and he slowly opened the chest. Inside the chest was a small, embroidered box made of a strange material that the man could not identify and a thick, dusty book. He placed the box in the container on his belt and stood up.

The man felt a tingle in the back of his neck, and he whirled around. Blocking the doorway was an apparition. It appeared to be the girl that the man had seen dead in room thirteen, except there was a thick purple aura around it and its eyes glowed white.

The man stumbled back and fell over the chest, slamming into the ground. The book flew out of his hand and smashed through the window behind him.

 _Thud._

The apparition floated forward slowly, and the man sat up, scrambling backwards and drawing his sword. Back pressed against the wall, he grit his teeth. He placed his free hand on the floorboards, ready to implode the floor if necessary. The apparition tilted its head and let out a hushed, undecipherable whisper. It floated forwards, its dangling legs passing through the chest. It stopped in front of the man.

A torn scrap of paper appeared in the air, falling into the man's lap. Warily, the man took his hand off the floor and picked up the piece of paper, reading it.

Let me leave this place

The man stared at the apparition, then slammed his hand into the ground, detonating a rune that broke the floor beneath him. The apparition hissed in agony diving after the man as he fell to the first floor. He turned in the air and landed on the ground gracefully, looking up and bolting for the exit. He sheathed his sword and summoned a huge rune behind him as he slipped through the entrance, grabbing the dropped book from the ground and running through the gate. He slammed the gate shut and pulled the key out, shoving it in his jacket pocket.

The man was panting heavily as he returned to the camp set up by his mercenary group.

"Hey, what happened out there? You look like you've seen a ghost," questioned one member of the small group of five.

The man turned towards the questioner, a short girl with black hair, and said, "A whole lot of shit. I kept my cool, but I sure as hell am not gonna do anything like that again. Plus, I used so much energy, I could sleep for days... Anyways, here's the shit. Get it to the client fast so we can move on from this awful place."

The young man tossed the book and box onto the small table that the girl was sitting at, sat on a chair at the table, and passed out.


End file.
